Plea From A Cat Named Virtue
by ObsidianSorrows
Summary: Oneshotsong fic. Deplora's present. Squall left Yuffie for Rinoa, and the ninja is wallowing in depression. And the only person to stick by her has been...her cat? Can things be remedied, or is Yuffie doomed to be like this forever?


Plea From a Cat Named Virtue

Disclaimer: These characters belong to SquareEnix, and this song is property of the band The Weakerthans

A young woman, around the age of twenty-two, with clipped auburn hair and dull black eyes shuffled around her small, mediocre San Francisco apartment, cleaning haphazardly with a duster, yet not really completely tuned into what she was doing. She swept over tables that were already devoid of any dust, taking time to clean things that weren't dirty, but 'artistically archaic' in color. She meticulously cleaned Mason (the name of her piano, New York styled), which was coated with dust from disuse. Feathers were falling from the duster and situating themselves between the cracks of the keys, but whether the girl realized that she was cleaning a musical instrument instead of just another antique or table was completely unknown.

Quietly, making no sound, as all felines are prone to do when they traveled, the woman's black cat came slinking into the room. It climbed up onto the abstract couch, nestled comfortably between two plush pillows. His name was Virtue, and his owner was known as Yuffie Kisaragi. Virtue knew that that was his master's _name, _but he wasn't so positive that that female standing over there, blankly filling their piano with feathers, was really _his _Yuffie. His Yuffie had been loud and ostentatious, with shining, playful eyes. She would have **never **dusted her dinky apartment they shared. The _old _Yuffie would've rather had a tea party with the dust than clean it up. Yet there she was, dusting things up with an almost maddening disposition, eyes not playful, but strictly austere. And it had been that way for almost six months now.

Why don't you ever want to play?

I'm tired of this piece of string

Mewing softly, Virtue padded over to his master, tugging on her pant leg with his claws. As of late, she usually didn't notice him when he did that; it was a miracle if she even remembered to feed him. But this time it seemed different, because the woman looked down, black eyes only slightly questioning.

"What is it Virtue?" she asked voice tired and worn out, like an old woman's. But she was only twenty-two! Virtue turned around and used his hind legs to give her calf a little kick, hoping that maybe the young Yuffie would crawl out of the old Yuffie's shell, and chase him around like she used to. She just shook her head and rubbed her temples as if her pet had just brought on a humongous migraine. She sighed and put the duster down on the coffee table, ignoring the black cat once again. She began to walk down the hall to her bedroom.

Virtue followed her, green eyes following her thin form as she walked into her room. She crawled into her bed, much like how he had crawled onto the couch, except with much less vigor. She burrowed deep into the three layers of winter blankets that he didn't know _why _she used since it wasn't even that cold. Just by looking at her, he knew she was going to sleep. She always slept, as if it was the only thing she could do. She went to her job of course, but when she wasn't doing that, all she did was sleep sleep sleep. Which left time for barely anything else. She barely ate either. Virtue glanced at the clock. Four o' clock in the afternoon. And she still hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. **Again. **If she kept this up, she'd become-what was that word-anemic.

The emerald curtains of her room were drawn again. They were always closed. She used to like the sun, he thought, but now she hated it so much that it could be believed that she was a vampire. She was definitely morbid enough to be one by now. She would rant sometimes too, saying how the sun reminded her of _him. _

Now, he wasn't entirely sure who this 'him' was, for in his lifetime, he'd come to know a lot of 'hims'. But this one she always talked about. She would say things like how he'd always leave the windows damn blasting open because he _knew _the sun always woke her up in the morning, that and she always had the apartment locked up like some cozy, claustrophobic, heated cave.

He knew that she seemed to talk about this 'him' with venom, but from his perspective, she also seemed to miss him a lot too.

He jumped onto the bed and did his version of 'wake your ass up' (which was digging his nails into any available skin) but Yuffie just rolled over, knocking the cat off the bed in the process. Virtue landed easily on his feet. He hissed and mewed and whined but got no answer. He padded, utterly defeated, out of the bedroom. If he had been able to facially show how he felt as he had stared up at his master, he would've looked miserable.

You sleep as much as I do now

And you don't eat much of anything

The next morning, a Sunday, found the two silent companions in the kitchen. Yuffie had actually gotten up that morning and decided to make breakfast. The cat couldn't blame her. She had never awoken the day before, meaning she hadn't eaten anything. Although always wary of her cooking, Virtue was still happy that she at least still had enough mind to feed herself once in a while. He himself didn't really care whether she fed him or not. If she did forget, he could always go and kill some poor, unsuspecting robin or finch.

Now, he wasn't very familiar with _what _human food was supposed to look like, or _how _it was supposed to smell, but he was pretty sure that the acrid, smoky scent coming from her 'pancakes' definitely wasn't normal. He watched silently as she cursed softly and promptly threw it into the trash, dropping the sizzling pan into the sink. She turned the over-the-stove fan on high, waving her hand back and forth a little to at least keep the smoke away from her nose.

At least one thing was still the same about her.

She couldn't cook to save her life.

Yuffie made her way to the cupboard, rifling through it. Virtue had to congratulate her on her determination. He watched as she pulled out a can, opening it up with an automatic can opener. Was it that Spam stuff that he always saw her eating? (Or used to eat.) He inched closer on the counter, dangerously close to falling into the sink. He made some shocked noises (as shocking as you can get with a cat's mouth) as he saw she was not making her food, but his.

No no no!

She was supposed to feed herself, not him! He didn't want her to die of starvation. Oh his poor Yuffie was gone and there was just this evil, skinny starving woman to take her place.

"Here you go," she said to him, placing his bowl to his left, since he was too close to the edge for it to be put in front of him. She walked over to the couch, laying down on, a completely exhausted air surrounding her. She had just woken up too. Both of them already knew that this day would be no different from all the other days in the last year.

"Look what you've done," Yuffie said loudly, and Virtue nearly jumped out of his fur. She sounded disgusted and disappointed at the same time. The pet turned his head to the side, staring at her with sharp green eyes. But his owner wasn't looking at him. He knew in that instant that she wasn't talking to him either. She did this a lot, and sometimes it scared him.

"Would you be happy if I died like this, a bony corpse?" she demanded, talking to the ceiling. Virtue didn't know why. The ceiling never did anything to her. And he was certain it didn't want her to die either, because then who would change it's light bulbs? He listened still, not looking at her, but still listening. He didn't want her to notice he was eavesdropping, even though it would be a little insane to accuse an animal of such a crime.

"I can't cook," she continued. "And you would always send me out of the kitchen." She laughed bitterly. "_I just need some time to think," _she imitated in a man's voice, a little distorted because she was close to tears.

I don't know whom you're talking to,

I made a search through every room

Virtue shook his head, feeling a shiver run down his spine, courtesy of his owner's odd behavior. He was a black cat-it was supposed to be the other way around. He knew not to try and play with her though. This was her 'alone' time. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe she didn't want to be alone.

"And then you go and date my effing sister!" she suddenly yelled, standing up and kicking the nearest object, which happened to be a glass cup sitting on the knee high coffee table. It went hurtling across the room, shattering against the apartment door. Virtue howled pitifully, startled and very aware she might just try and hurt him, she'd never done that before but in this state he didn't trust her, and oh what was going to happen? He jumped off the counter in a quick feat of frazzled nerves and caution. He ran into the guest room, a room that Yuffie always kept partially open, as if she was waiting for someone to come out. He quickly crawled under the bed in the middle of the room. Out in the kitchen he could hear Yuffie cursing and crying and laughing at the same time, and he knew better than to go in there.

This room didn't actually have any windows, but if it did, he was sure that they would've been closed up tight too, just out of spite.

but all I found was dust that moves

and shadows of the afternoon

He hacked, and thankfully it wasn't any hairball or anything. Here wasn't clean at all. He always wondered why she never cleaned in here, where the dust seemed to cumulate the most. The whole room seemed susceptible to becoming one giant mold hole if she didn't decide to come in, vacuum the floor, and-heavens! –change the smelling sheets.

His paws touched something velvety and soft, not unlike his own fur. His eyes glowed as he stared down at the object beneath him. It was one of those books with the shiny pages and the even shinier pictures, what humans called a 'Fo Toe Al Bum'. It was a nifty invention, he supposed. It captured people in this little shiny paper box, and they just stayed like that. He didn't understand how it worked (and what in the world was with that flashing box they called a 'Ka Mih Ra'? Like an Egyptian god or hellcat) but the things you couldn't understand in life always turned out to be the most wonderful.

Somehow he managed to open it, which he thought was going to be difficult, what with the low mattress ceiling and all. But he did it, and solemnly he observed the pictures.

One showed his young master, not the mean crazy one out in the kitchen, but the one that liked to run in the rain and play around with snakes. She was dressed in khaki shorts, with a funny looking strappy shirt, called a tank top, or something like that. She was smiling brightly, giving a peace sign and sticking out her tongue. On her left was a girl with the same length hair, but it was curled out instead. She wore a short denim dress, and was clutching to one of those child toys-a jump rope. On his master's other side was her sister, who seemed in everyway opposite to Yuffie. Yuffie had short brown hair and black eyes, where as her sister had long black hair and brown eyes. Their personalities contrasted too. Yuffie was loud and tomboyish and very much of a 'brawler'. Her sister was loud too, but not so much, very feminine, and as he liked to state, not a 'brawler', but more like a 'bawler.'

In the sister's arms was-oh ugh- her evil little dick dog, Angelo. How he hated that stumpy little creature. The dog had sustained a few swipes from the irate cat, and unfortunately he had yet to tumble to his doggie grave. Virtue had nine lives though, as he liked to boast. The barking thing over there had only one.

The second picture, directly under the first, was of men this time, two of them. One of them had wild, completely abnormal blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Another man, a taller male with neck-long brown hair, and a seemingly apathetic disposition, was holding him in a headlock. Albeit, he didn't look very apathetic in the picture. He actually looked pretty pissed, but Virtue couldn't tell of what just by looking at the picture.

Singing reached his ears, and for a moment he crouched cautiously and listened.

_"That doan impressah meh much, ooo ooo ooo," _he heard his master sing mockingly of some old country song, and he knew that she'd found some hidden stash of vodka or distilled wine to drink, because she certainly sounded drunk.

And listen, about those bitter songs you sing,

They're not helping anything.

They won't make you strong.

The feline wished that she could just hear herself for a moment. She was falling apart. She was drinking that disgusting liquid that he used to constantly smell, out when he was wandering the streets and picking among the garbage. She was always saying that she hated how 'damn cold he was, he never cared' and all of that, but did she see that when she did this she was almost like him? Not when she was drunk, mind you, but the way she dragged through her days, the empty ghost of what she used to be.

_"So yeh got the moves but do ya, got the tuch…" _

He ignored her once more, hoping that she didn't decide to throw herself out the window or anything like that. She hadn't displayed any suicidal tendencies, but he certainly wouldn't put it past her in this stage. He just had to thank the tenants for putting bars over the windows, just in case someone decided to get a little fresh and take a little hippity hop out of a nine-story building. But aside from that, remembering his master talk about 'it was so difficult to get close to you' was starting to sound a lot like the man in the picture.

He didn't have a very big brain, not nearly as smart as a human, but he still had some logic. Maybe a bit more than a cat should have, Yuffie used to say. She believed that maybe he was tested on for superior intelligence. Maybe he was.

He went onto the second page of the Fo Toe Al Bum, staring down at a happy picture of a young and vibrant Yuffie. There was an arm wrapped around her waist, and he followed the appendage up to the man beside her, and he recognized it as the one that was holding the funny haired guy in a headlock. He didn't seem so angry this time, and there was an insipience of a smile on his lips. He didn't seem so bad. In the corner, the blockish, new age font said 4/22/02.

He pawed through some more pages, seeing similar pictures of the two of them, getting more intimate and affectionate as he got closer to the end. On one page his claw got stuck, and he hissed softly as he worked it out of the tears. Staring down for a moment, he was about to turn the page (just another picture of Yuffie and the brown-haired man) when he noticed that the man looked different. He had a peculiar scar running between his eyes, and he seemed even more solemn than the other pictures. He noted that in the corner the date read 5/21/04.

He wondered what was going on when he heard a loud, incessant knock on the apartment door.

So we should open up the house,

invite the tabby two doors down

He slinked out from under the bed, knowing that he was covered in grime. He padded into the hallway, not fully trusting to go into the kitchen. Yuffie had gotten some of her mind back, and was hurriedly throwing the bottles into the trashcan and running her fingers through her hair at the same time. At least she still had a conscience to not be a complete mess in front of strangers.

The black feline was very curious. They had not had a visitor in a long time. Maybe some human contact would be good for her. If someone else saw what a wreck she was, surely they'd knock some sense into her. He usually didn't like strangers or even people he knew walking around his domain, but if it was good for his master, then he supposed he could make some exceptions.

He just hoped it wasn't her sister.

you could ask your sister if

she doesn't bring her basset hound

"Who is it?" Yuffie called distractedly as she ran to put on some clothes (she had been running around in her underclothes all morning). Virtue, being a black cat and therefore being the general harbinger of doom, was having some willies himself. He thought, or somehow _knew _who would be at the door, but he was a great feline, descendant of a line of honorable cats, and he would not give into defeat!

"Rinoa!" a muffled voice, almost sounding teary, moaned on the other side of the door. Rinoa Heartilly, Yuffie's sister. They had always been as different as night and day, and their last names showed it. They had the same mother, but different fathers. Both of them using their now dead _mother's _last name would've been a small truce between them, but it never seemed to occur to either of them.

Flaming fur balls.

Virtue ran into the room, hoping that for once Yuffie would understand what he was trying to tell her and lock him in her room. Her locking him away from that stupid bumbling drool-machine would be the nicest thing she'd ever done for him. But before the cat could even go flying into her closet, she came running out, slamming the door and nearly chopping off his little nose when she did so. Which would've been tragic. Not to fall into a stereotype or anything, but he really did have a cute little button nose.

"Ok hang on!" she yelled just as she opened the door, staring eye to eye with her sister. Rinoa was three years older than her, but she was still the same height as her little sister. "What happened to you?" she asked when she noticed the way Rinoa's usually charming hazel eyes were now brimming with tears. "Come inside."

Oh sure, be the young Yuffie with her, Virtue thought huffily (well, if cats _could _huff). But nevermind that. His nose was already picking up something short, smelly, and all evil.

Here comes Angelo.

"Yuffie," Rinoa wailed, sitting down on her couch. Now, Rinoa wailing wasn't very out of the norm. She looked frail and was very stubborn, and she always said how she hated to cry. Of course, that never stopped her from doing it constantly.

"What?" Yuffie tried to ask consolingly, leaving behind her own depression just to help her sister. "What's wrong? You can tell me." Her sister and her, most of the time, were at odd's ends. Two ends of the spectrum. Even though half the time they ended up arguing, they still had enough heart to care for each other. Even with the given situations.

"Squ-" she stuttered, and Yuffie froze on that first syllable. _'Don't say it'_ she wanted to will her sister. _'Don't say it because you know that's just going to make the gap between us tear open like a fresh wound all over again.' _But her sister couldn't hear her, and there was no way to stop the flow of words that poured from the older sister's mouth.

"Squall dumped me! Gawd I don't know what I did wrong but he would just get upset at me for no reason and he wouldn't talk for days and then just one day he's like Rinoa we have to talk so we talk and then he just says its not going to work out and and…" she grabbed a big wad of tissue from her blue over shirt, blowing heavily into them. "And he **DUMPED **_me!" _She threw her upper body across the couch, crying loudly like a siren. Yuffie stood there stiffly, knowing she should go sit next to her and at least try to comfort her, but she couldn't will her feet to move. She knew she should care that her dear _dear _sister was in agony over this and she should be all love and support but oh how she couldn't help but feel a little elated. She felt evil and devilish just for being a little happy, but she couldn't help it. She just _missed _him.

As for things you shouldn't miss,

tape his and the modern man,

Cold war and card catalogs,

to come and join us if they can.

At that moment Virtue and Angelo decided to come tearing into the living room, Angelo hot on Virtue's heels, with the latter hissing with ears flat against his narrow black head. The riotous noise they were making only seemed to cause Rinoa more grief.

Yuffie watcheded the animal's race around her legs, around the couch, under the coffee table. Poor Angelo was just crashing into everything, not able to completely keep up with the cat's swift grace. _'I'm like Angelo,'_ Yuffie thought suddenly. _'Just crashing into everything that came my way, while Squall was just able to jump over it all and stay just out of my reach.' _She doubted that she would ever understand why Squall just suddenly decided to date Rinoa, when claiming he wanted 'time to think'. Although the only person who actually came out and audibly said they were dating was Rinoa, it was obvious enough they both were. And she knew that she should've protested when she noticed how they suddenly hung out, and she soo would've if she hadn't had the stupid thought _'hey this is what he wants, it's what my sister wants, and I _just_ **can't** fight with her anymore…'_

Yuffie slowly walked around the coffee table, as if being controlled by some remote. She sat down next to the mourning woman, feeling her hand inching it's way onto her sobbing sister's shoulder and keeping it there. No squeezes of reassurance, friendly pats on the shoulder, or relaxing hand motions on the back. Yuffie knew she couldn't do those things because deep down, all she wanted to do was jump around singing 'Hallelujah!' at the top of her lungs.

To understand this, you had to know that Rinoa was very popular when it came to men. Rinoa was a relatively humble person, but it was no joke when someone said she could have any guy she wanted. The world was just lucky that she wasn't that conniving to actually demand such a thing. _'If looks could kill,' _Cloud always said mildly, that statement usually having the follow up with the back of Aerith's hand. But he was right. Rinoa was beautiful, and there was no way that her younger sister had ever been able to compete.

Over the years Rinoa had dated several men, and the thing that really fried Yuffie's fanny was that she had had a crush on half of them. It made her cry sometimes as a kid when her sister would come and visit, bringing along a handsome boy in tow that just _happened _to be the man of her fairy tale fantasies that she stalked around school. She'd learned to live with those though, always prepared for the worst when they had their little 'dates' that their fathers set up for them, just to keep the peace. All of that was alright…and then there was Squall Leonhart.

Yuffie wasn't even going to try to deny it. She was in love with Squall. Desperately and dearly. She met him when she was in school, and she went through most of her years of high school with him. Which would've been what somebody would think was the perfect high school romance….except that he was her teacher. She knew that there had to be something wrong with her when she spent half of her English class with her eyes glued to her teacher instead of her perused copy of _Hamlet. _But she'd never told him her feelings then. It wasn't until her sophomore year in college that she had the guts to go back to that school and tell him how she really felt. Frankly she'd been nothing less than shocked when he became her boyfriend, despite their gaping eight-year age difference.

After two years of dating (two years of absolute perfect heaven for her) an incident happened that altered their relationship. They were walking through a park one night when they encountered a band of city thugs. She could still remember their grimy hands on her, feel the cold barrel of the gun against her neck as they yelled for all her valuables. They probably would've raped her too if Squall hadn't stopped them. In the end they got away with Yuffie's engagement ring from Squall, her purse and Squall's wallet, and his golden watch. Their gifts for the couple were a scar between Squall's eyes and a bullet buried in Yuffie's left thigh.

A few months after the incident both of them were found to be fine. Or at least that's what Yuffie thought. Then suddenly one day Squall came up to her and told her he needed time to think, spewing all that archetypal crap about how I just need to clear my head, this doesn't change the relationship. Yeah, of course. Going around and royally fucking my sister doesn't change it at all.

She was so damn bitter at him-oh how that bitterness ate at her very soul-but she still loved him. She hated that feeling. In her earlier days, she was proclaimed to be a lying, dirty-handed thief, something that she couldn't even deny to herself. Being a thief, somehow, gave her some advantage in other things too, like poker for instance. Fine game poker! Is what her uncle Cid used to say, when he wasn't half-induced with alcohol intake. A lot of things seemed "_fine" _to him when he didn't have good 'ol whiskey to put his mechanical mind into gear. But anyways, she was good at that game. Rather, she was good at _conning _the game. A little swipe of the five there, hide the king in her gloves, tube socks, underwear…she was a pro at winning, and no one ever suspected what she was doing. She was an ace bluffer too. Bluffed like a madwoman, and it worked! So, having such high rank of skill (she liked to call it skill, not what it really was, which was plain cheating) she believed _no one _could **ever **bluff her. No one would ever play her. And yet there was Squall, walking away, leaving her in the dust as he pranced off with Rinoa. That was the moment she knew.

She'd been played. Swiped of everything.

_'HA' _she felt like spitting in her sister's face, in Squall's face. Look what happened. You both threw my feelings down the gutter and now both of you are screwed. HA HA HA. That's what you get. Life's tough chickies, so deal with it.

For girly drinks and parlor games.

Pass around the easy lie.

of absolutely no regret

And it would've felt nice to say that.

Instead she croaked out "would you like some vodka?" She knew that she had just earlier thrown the bottles in the trash, but her sister was so distressed that she probably wouldn't notice her rummaging through the trash bag and pulling them out again. Rinoa didn't look like a drinker, but maybe in her current state she'd have the joy of taking up the bottle. Yuffie didn't consider this to be a bad influence on her part. Hell, her "sisterly love" was extending a hand here. With a bottle in it.

"I don't drink," Rinoa managed, and Yuffie silently cursed herself. Why is it that she seemed to be the only non-drunkard that was able to crumple up her feelings and wallow in some alcohol? Did she have that many problems? "A cup of mango-orange tea would be nice."

Yuffie grunted, partially happy that she wouldn't have to sink her hand into her trash bin. She didn't know what the heck she'd find in there. She opened up her cupboards and started to rummage. Mango-orange tea. Who the F-U-C-K drank mango-orange tea when they were miserable? She was like some unsullied priestess. All she needed was a frock.

Yuffie bit the inside of her cheek until it bled. Not just because she had no damn tea, but also because she realized how cruel she was being to her sister. She wasn't being fair at all. But then again, Rinoa was probably saying the same things about her in her mind. She wondered what would've happened if they had been from the same parents. And maybe been sharks. Shark embryos battled it out in the stomach, and the winner was born. Who would've won that? Would Squall even have cared who it was?

"I don't have any tea," she said, gripping the counter. Stop thinking about sharks. And stop thinking about all those times that Rinoa came in here telling you how great her "tea and crumpets" was with Squall. Ok, she didn't actually say "tea and crumpets", but that was all Yuffie could picture when she told him they were going out for lunch. All Yuffie ever did for lunch was take a little pit stop at McDonalds and get her fill of daily calories. "When did you guys start dating anyways?"

The horrible question. Why'd she have to open her big mouth? She couldn't be just happy with the fact that, hey, they broke up! Like she just said, deal with it. But she couldn't just let that settle, get buried under. She had to know. Because honestly, she couldn't quite place her finger on when either of them had come out and said "lookie here guys! We're dating!". One day they were just…together. Which was assumed of course, but they looked so "itemish". It was difficult to not come to that conclusion.

Rinoa was actually silent, and she slowly raised her eyes to meet Yuffie's. Yuffie had come back around to the front of the aging counter, leaning against it and picking her nails, like the answer didn't really matter to her. But it did matter. It meant all the world to her at this point.

"Yuffie, you know what I do for a living, right?" Rinoa asked instead, voice soft and angelic, just how it normally was. She pushed her black hair away from hazel eyes as she gazed at her sister steadily. Yuffie stiffened considerably, realizing that procrastinating must've come from their mother's side of the family. Both were equally good at it. This wasn't a time to put things off though. She needed an answer, and now Rinoa was going to play cat and mouse? Well…fine. She'd play. But at the end of it, she'd better get her answer.

"Yeah. You're a counselor," she said coolly, voice tinged with ice. Yeah, that's right. Just be calm, detached. If she sounded annoyed or even anxious, Rinoa might not reveal the answer. So she had to bait the pretty woman out.

"More like a psychotherapist," Rinoa said, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She had crawled into a sitting position, and was staring rigidly ahead. Yuffie frowned and began to pick at her nails again. It was deathly silent for a moment. Where were a scurrying feline and mongrel when you needed them? Even they were quiet, and she wondered if they were sitting somewhere, laughing at the stupidity of humans. She would be if she were one of them.

"Same thing," Yuffie retorted, digging into the flesh under the nail. She suddenly wanted Rinoa out of her apartment, just out and away for good. She couldn't take this. She wanted everyone to just leave her alone. It was hard enough walking around everyday having people stare at her like she was some depressed druggist, and now she was having her mind played with. Well damn them for being so smart. Rinoa and Squall were just one step ahead of her weren't they? They always would be.

"Maybe," Rinoa said, and the room had lost it's angst. Now it just felt chilled, like the first day of winter, with all the windows left open. It snowed on the inside of Yuffie, that she was sure. Rinoa had gotten up and was hastily dusting herself off, as if nothing had happened. Like she was wiping away all her problems, just wiping herself clean. Yuffie had to admire her for that. Maybe that's why she was so angry with her. The one person she really admired had taken away the one thing that actually admired **her. **

"Well, I have to get going," Rinoa said, and Yuffie's veins turned to ice. Her sister walked past her, but not before stopping to give her a fragile, but warm and not completely unwelcomed hug. Rinoa smiled at Yuffie, stroking back her hair. "You're a good sister, you know that? Full of curiosity. And cuteness," she pinched her cheek, and Yuffie actually let her. Rinoa seemed back to herself, if not missing a few components of her usual happiness. Yuffie was still upset about not having her question answered, but seeing her sister in an OK mood seemed to be a suitable substitute instead. Rinoa stroked Yuffie's hair once more.

"It's oily," she observed, rubbing her fingers against the younger girl's scalp. Yuffie flinched, only slightly embarrassed. She'd let herself slip for a while. "You should take a shower. And get rid of those vodka bottles, while you're at it." Before Yuffie could protest, Rinoa shook her head, continuing. "Don't bother denying it. I can see glass all over the floor. And it's in your breath. You're wasting away Yuf, and I know we don't get along that much, but I still don't want to see you like this." Rinoa took both of Yuffie's rougher, swifter hands in hers, stroking them gently. "Get your act together, k? You got a cat to take care of." She glanced to the side, seeing Virtue standing curiously in the middle of the hallway. Angelo came stumbling outof the guest room, covered completely in dust and sneezing like crazy. Virtue looked suspiciously innocent about that.

"Come on Angie," she murmured, beckoning to the plump dog. It wagged it's tail enthusiastically and bumped into her leg. They began to walk out the door. "Get better," she said in parting, making Yuffie wonder if she really thought she was ill.

"I'm fine," Yuffie said, stressing the word fine. She was hanging onto the now open door, as if beckoning them out. The intense urge she felt for kicking both of them out in the hallway was gone now, but the need to be alone was still there. She still had to mull over Rinoa's words, and her sudden change in attitude.

"_I'm _fine," Rinoa corrected. "You…" she smiled sadly. As she was walking out the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe I was overreacting about the whole Squall thing. Maybe…it wasn't what I made it out to be. Maybe…" Yuffie couldn't catch the last thing she said. She was already out into the hallway, and halfway into the elevator. Yuffie sighed in exhaustion, and shut the door with a small click, throughly exhausted and confused.

* * *

Virtue sat on his haunches, grooming his coal black paws. He watched his owner with curious eyes. She looked more haggard and drawn than she had that morning. He hadn't followed the sister's conversation at all, although he knew it would've been in his best "interest" to do so. But it wasn't his fault. He had been too busy entertaining the slobber-fest that was Angelo. What great joys that had been. The only kick he got out of that was jumping on the bed and watching the dog bump into the mattress continuously like a broken mechanical doll.

The apartment had a sort of distilled quiet, now that Yuffie's drunken clamor and Rinoa's wails were in the past. Virtue didn't find this as upsetting as he thought it was. In fact, it felt somewhat refreshing, like a snowplow had come to wipe the streets clean. Yuffie was waking up from a nightmare, and almost nearly walking into another one.

Virtue padded into the bathroom, where an eerie, shocked silence seemed to hang. Yuffie was standing in front of the mirror, looking like she'd been slapped across the face. Her hand was on her cheek, kneading it as if unsure if it was her own. She ran her fingers around the bags under her eyes, and then combed through her unkempt hair.

"I look like the Queen of Moths," she said, and Virtue almost heard a lilting giggle in her voice. Was she ok now? She started to throw her clothes off, and Virtue sat there, not moving, even when her underwear landing over his head like a crown. Cripes, she needed a bath. She reeked.

Virtue came back into the living room as the shower started, and he was happy to hear that Yuffie wasn't trying to make lyrics in the shower again. He didn't know if that was good or bad. But either way, some things, like Yuffie's singing, were better left forgotten. Sadly that motto didn't pertain to Angelo, Virtue thought wistfully as he noticed all the clumps of hair that dog had managed to deposit literally everywhere on the ground.

Half an hour later produced a sparkly-clean Yuffie. Who do you call when your owner is down in the shits? 1-800-32-RINOA. Yuffie's cheeks were tinted pink, like she'd taken one of those toe-brush cleaners and scrubbed it across her face. She probably had. Her clothes were no longer rumpled and stained with alcohol either. She had thrown those in the laundry basket, and now she wore a clean pair of black and gray cargo jeans, and a long sleeved green sweater, that showed just a little of her tum-tum off. Her auburn hair was brushed and had a glistening, soft look to it. All in all, it was a nice change.

"Wanna go for a walk?" she asked Virtue, going into the living room to fetch his collar. Most people walked their dogs around in parks. Yuffie on the other hand, liked to walk on the wild (and innately senile) side by skipping around with her cat on a leash. Half the time she didn't even use the leash (it was _pink _after all, courtesy of Aerith's Christmas present gone awry), which made her look even weirder. Plus, skiddadling around the middle of downtown San Francisco with an animal was a paradox in itself. Not that either of them had cared. And they certainly weren't going to give a damn now.

"Aw, hells with it," she said lightly, and she beckoned to her pet. "Let's go now. We can go to Union Square and chase after all the pigeons." Union Square was in the center of downtown S.F., with all the best stores, and a giant-well, square-with steps on all sides. Usually it was the home of a huge Christmas tree around Christmas time. But now it was just a place for people to stop for a rest and buy some hot chocolate.

They exited the apartment, blending in with the throng of people. Due to the amount of humans packing the sidewalks, Virtue sat on Yuffie's shoulders until they actually got there. Besides, being up here on her shoulders let him think that-holy crap-the old Yuffie was back. Or mostly back.

and later maybe you could try

to let your losses dangle off

the sharp edge of the century

By the time they got there, Yuffie had realized two things. One, Union Square was a lot harder to get to when you had kids stopping you at every corner asking if your cat could talk. And two, she was a lot more out of shape than she thought she was, because she was panting like a mule.

She walked up to one of the venders near the benches, intent on getting some water or at least a soda pop. When she saw all those hotdogs and pretzels though, her stomach jumped in response, rumbling around like a bull ready to mambo. She groaned. She suddenly felt like a little twig, and her stomach was the giant rock begging to be fed. Sighing, she threw some money on the table, asking for a **very **salty pretzel, a corndog, a hotdog, and two sodas. Hey, it never hurt to be prepared.

"Come 'ere Virtue, I'm not gonna get fat without you," she called to the cat, who had already jumped off her shoulders and was terrorizing some birds. She actually let herself laugh when a few daring crows came out of nowhere and decided to peck on the poor cat's head. _Did I just laugh? _

She shook her head, realizing that she'd become her worst nightmare. A serious, morose, drunk idiot who couldn't tell left from right. She felt her pants slipping off her legs again, and as she yanked them back up, she was reminded how many meals she'd missed. She hated herself for becoming such a sloth, rolling around in her own self-pity. She probably would've stayed like that if Rinoa hadn't come over and told her so much.

So they'd broken up…

Something about that bothered her. Rinoa had been extremely emotional about that, but she had also said something- something that had just _tipped _that scale of suspicion for her.

_Maybe…it wasn't what I made it out to be._

What the heck did that mean?

"Virtue-you stupid little lion- if you-" she began, finally noticing that her crazy cat was trying to massacre that crow that had dared peck his elegant head. She was about to just run over to him, dropping her beloved corn dog and all (that was a big deal, dropping some corn dogs) and just grab him before he caused a bloody scene. She didn't want to be dragged over to the police's office for indecent-gore-exposure. Not something she needed right now.

"Thanks," someone said far off, maybe behind her. She ignored the noise. It was just another person buying some hot dog or pretzel or something else. What was Virtue doing? Going crazy like some kind of wild exotic tiger. He hadn't actually cut any of them, but he was giving those birds quite a scare. What really annoyed her though is that those damn crows wouldn't just fly away like the pigeons did. They just kept henpecking him, and cawing in that particularly annoying way that could piss anyone off.

"Virtue!" she shrieked, really walking over this time. Or at least, she got halfway to her cat before she froze, and this time she really did drop something, but it was her soda can, not her 'dogs. Her caffeine-hyped drink went rolling away from behind her, landing against something with a dull thud. Probably dented and oozing out liquid by now. She was surprised it didn't explode when she had dropped it.

"Damn it," she muttered, still worried about her pet, and yet wanting to retrieve her soda. What had given her such a scare? She didn't know if she was just paranoid or something, but she had **_sworn _**that she'd seen _his _face right there, watching her silently. But that was impossible. He was probably at some bar, head on the counter as he thought about what the hell he did wrong with Rinoa. That had to be it.

"_SQUUAAWW!" _The crows screeched as Virtue hissed and jumped and swiped. Yuffie rolled her eyes and went to get her banged up soda. She just had to remember not to open it instantly or she'll get a big explosion o' fizz….

"This yours?" the man said softly, holding the soda can in his hands. She had been correct-it was bented and dented and screwed all over. Not that she was paying much attention to that. Soda can be damned, she was looking at the hand that held it, willing herself not to look at the face (_don't look at the face) _and wanting so badly to just curl into her bed and scream obscenities into the night.

"Maybe," she said tightly, giving one quick glance backwards. Virtue seemed about finished up with his tyranny. Good. Because she was just about finished up here too. She had wanted to walk around and just let her worries slide off today, but seeing his face was like a cold, hard slap in the face. She was suddenly angry at the slits of sun that shone through the clouds, and she hated how unnaturally warm it was on that day. Fuck all of this.

"But you can have it," she said shortly, turning around swiftly, wondering why the HELL there were tears in her eyes. "Virtue!" she shrieked, like a broken, dying record. "VIRTUE!"

"Still walking around that cat? You're as zany as I remember you."

Yuffie spun so fast she thought her head was going to spiral off. She stomped up to Squall, wishing that smoke could billow from her nostrils, and her eyes turn red. She settled on clenching her fists 'til they turned a pearly white.

"You," she spat out, breathing hard. "Don't you _dare _speak like you knew me. I was _wild, _and _rebellious, _two things you couldn't possibly understand. I **loved **being different like that. And you just took both of those away. When you walked out on me like some effing melodrama." She turned around and stalked determinedly over to her cat, signaling that the conversation was finished. She roughly grabbed her cat away from the birds, scraping and bleeding up her hands in the process. She didn't care. She just wanted to get out of there.

She began to walk into the street again, going past some new-age bookstores and some old fashioned toy stores. She felt so irate at the moment that she hadn't even remembered to put Virtue on her shoulders, and he practically had to ride on her feet to avoid being stepped on.

"_You're as zany as I remember you." _

"No," she whispered, as if he was right there next to her. She shook her head, angry at herself for having her eyes blurred. She swallowed and it felt like downing a leaden weight. This city had suddenly lost all of it's glamour to her. And as long as he was here, she doubted that the city was going to look nice any time soon.

She had the distinct intuition that someone was following her. She picked up her pace a little, and fixed her face into a large, irreverent scowl. It was probably another one of those crazies, who stumbled around in a drunken stupor, smelling of urine and slapping girl's butts. Sometimes a few of them got smart and decided to follow a pretty lady for a bit, but if you looked mean and cranky and crazy yourself, they usually let you alone.

By the time she reached the newest, most renovated part of S.F., with the open malls and merry-go-rounds and giant IMAX theaters, she knew that the person following her wasn't some senile man looking for some action. Which meant it had to be Squall. What, did he think it was funny to pace behind her and make her even more miserable? She give him her perfectly good soda already, damn it, so why couldn't he just leave now? Did he want some corndogs now too? She wasn't made of goddamn money.

She sped up her pace, and Virtue flashed a brief moment of being cowed before climbing up her swiftly swinging leg like a rock climber. Virtue made to her neck safely. (Well, he made it safely. Yuffie probably had two dozen claw marks on her legs now.) Yuffie ran into the large mall, immediately tearing toward the pathway to the second floor. In the center of the first floor was a large pond with koi fish in it, and a large platform spiraled above it, which led to the second floor, and the third, and so on.

Darn it, she really was out of shape. She cursed taking this way. It was hard enough having to run through the streets, but now she was dragging herself up an incline. Oh heavens, this was not her day.

Suddenly, Squall ran past her, looking like some kind of friggin' elegant racehorse, just about to cross the finish line. She stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Wasn't he chasing her? Maybe she'd been just too full of herself and he'd just wanted to go for a run. Like, 'oh hey! There's Yuffie. Let's go chase her and make her _think _I want her.'

Want her? Why was she thinking that now? She was supposed to be angry at him!

She had gotten him off her back, so to speak. Apparently she wasn't his target after all. She let herself pant for a while, clutching the hand rails with her other hand on her knee. Virtue had jumped off yet again and was clawing at her ankle.

"Ow," she snapped at him, feeling his nails bury in. "Damn you, what do you want?" He dug in harder as if she was supposed to understand. "No! We let him go. He can go off running like some Olympian all he wants. We're going home again."

She picked up Virtue, despite the fact that he was hissing at her and causing a bedlam right on her shoulders. She walked slowly this time, staring down below at the bright white and orange fish swimming in the water. They were so lucky, those fish. All those dumb things had to do was swim around all day looking pretty. Didn't they only have a memory span of like, an hour? That would suck. She was surprised they weren't as fat as hell by now, because hey, they probably couldn't remember what they just ate.

_Clonk._

"OW." She rubbed the back of her head, staring at the ground. Situated right between her feet was a small angel figurine, made of **plastic **for God's sakes. Who the heck threw plastic figurines at people? That think had burned like a mutha-

_I'm sorry_

She stared, frozen, at the two-word inscription, written inside the golden scroll that the nude cherub was holding. Everything in her body felt like it was turning to ice, like she was catching a bad case of hypothermia.

Sorry for throwing it at her head…? Or for something else…

She didn't know what had compelled her to go ripping up those stairs like a chainsaw murderer. She had TOLD herself to just let him go. But that was before he took his concussion-prone angel and tossed it at her noggin. Now he was in for it, and she wouldn't leave him alone until she got ALL her answers.

"Probably planned this," she puffed out as she made it to the third floor, which was mainly an empty balcony full of nicely sculpted benches that led into the extremely luxurious Hyatt hotel lobby. It didn't look like much of a lobby though. There was a large, beautifully constructed golden helix that hug from the ceiling. The edifice had those elevators on the insidethat you could watch going up and down, like pills slinking through a tube. The atmosphere felt a lot like a sophisticated, nighttime club, especially with the bar over in the corner.

The bar. She saw him lounging there, looking like he had been sitting there for hours. He sat back in a plushy looking chair, with a twin on the other side of it. Between the two seats was a small coffee table, and two drinks waited in all stillness. One of them had been sipped from a bit, but the other one hadn't even been touched. She twitched her eyebrow. He was some fuckin' James Bond.

She came over and sat down next to him, and Virtue plopped down on her lap. The bartender glared at her for a moment, with a look that clearly said 'take that cat out or I'll sautéed it.' She pointedly ignored him, turning to Squall instead. She tossed the angel to him, and he caught it between deft fingers. He glanced at it, then fixed her with a deep stare, and she couldn't help but be caught up in those depths.

"What do you want?" she asked, not liking the direction in which her heart was going, pounding furiously and making her cheeks tinted. She felt an underlying sense of nervousness, and she had to question herself why. "Why'd you throw this at me? Do you want me to die from a cut in the head? And what the hell does 'I'm sorry' mean? I want some answers, bub."

Squall was quiet for a moment, still rotating the figure between his long, pianist-like fingers. "…because I needed to get your attention. No. It means it's a compensation for the last six months."

we could talk about the weather or

how the weather used to be.

_Why…why did you have to say it…_

"Seven, in a week," she said dully, only a quarter embarrassed that she'd kept count. She could feel Squall staring at her again, and she began to pick agitatedly at Virtue's collar, feeling a sense of modestly crawl into her. Did she have something in her hair? She'd just washed it, and she'd made sure that she'd gotten all the muffin crumbs out…was it her clothes? Her eyes? Her **nose? **She always thought her conker was pretty big, and when she was younger, she woke up every morning half expecting it to eat up her face. Is that what he was staring at? "Who throws stuff at innocent passerbys anyways…"

"I knew you would've followed." He glanced up, seeing the chef starting to walk toward them. He sent him a look that could've had Hitler freezing in his grave. The bartender growled and gave the brunet a quick flip of the finger before going back behind the counter, muttering in a foreign language that sounded like German.

"Why do you do this to me? Rinoa came over today," she said impulsively, her nails making crescents into her palms. "She told me stuff. A lot of stuff." Before he could say a thing, she put a hand up, and Squall saw that she'd cut through her skin.

"Yuf-"

"**No. **Let me talk. Listen, I've had a rough day today. My half-sister came over, sobbed to me, preached to me, and left me to drown in a metaphorical mountain of shit. I'm starving, I just found out that my cat is a serial bird killer, my head is burning from having a five pound naked angel thrown at me, the chef over there wants to fry my ass with olive oil, and now I'm sitting with a man that broke my heart and went out with my sister."

Virtue shivered. Yuffie had _waves _of anger coming off of her. He could feel her palms pick up heat, and from the way she was gripping him, he knew that she was on the edge. On the edge of what, he wasn't sure. The edge of insanity, the edge of sobbing, the edge of reason….he just didn't know. All he knew was that something **big **was going to be said, and he didn't know how either of them could handle it.

"What…did you say?"

Yuffie glared at him, and she was shocked and angry at herself that she had tears in her eyes. Always with the crying.She pissed herself off sometimes.The lighting in the bar was dim, but Squall could clearly see that small drop that slid from her eye, curving around her cheek. "You want me to repeat that?" she asked in a shrilly, uncontrolled voice. She stopped for a moment, biting her lip so hard it bled and filled her mouth with an unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting taste. "I said, I HATE you for shacking up with my sister. How could you do that Squall? You knew that things were strained between my sister and I and you just did and went it anyways! I loved you. **Loved you.**"

Perfect. It was perfect. She'd didn't realize how badly her body had needed to just tell him that. Tell him **thanks **, you ruined it all. Even seeing his stunned face gave her some sort of perverse pleasure. Perfect…but then her mouth had to betray her.

**I loved you…**

"…and I still do."

She scrambled to her feet, and Virtue jumped off her lap with a loud hiss, running a few feet from her. The tension was nearly shocking him. He just had to get away from those two. Sometimes….humans really confused him. He 'rwared' when he saw the bartender raise a pan, murder in his eyes. Crazy old coot.

Why'd she always have to be so clumsy? She could've just run away then, and he could've sat there, ridden with guilt, after hearing her ultimate confession. She hadn't wanted it to end that way. For just **once**, she had wanted to be the cool one, to leave with the last word. And they were amazing, true, and complete words. And she just shattered that masterpiece with those four, _stupid _words. She had tripped herself up. And now she was tripping again. Literally.

Her orange sneakers twirled in the hem of her baggy cargos, and she felt herself falling. Just like a fairytale.

_..Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall….Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…._

He caught her, and she almost laughed at the mediocrity, the damn **_obviousness _**of it. Of course he'd catch her. In every stupid romance story, the guy _always _caught the girl before she fell. Then they'd look into each other's eyes and say 'oh baby, I forgive you'. But this wasn't a romance story. So…it wasn't so perfect after all.

Since he'd been sitting down, he'd had to lunge to catch her, resulting in a burst of momentum that he hadn't planned. True, he had caught her. So now they equally shared the impact as their faces met with the cold marble tiles.

Pain rung in Squall's ears, and he felt like his nose had been shoved off to the right side. His head felt like it had split open, like Athena popping out of Zeus' head. Yuffie had shifted, and if both of them hadn't been in so much pain, they could've realized that his hand had come to cup her left breast.

I know what that feels like, Virtue mused, remembering how Yuffie had slammed the door in his face. He watched as the two got up, rubbing their noses. A couple had run over, helping them up. 'Are you ok?' 'What happened?' was all the cat could hear, over and over again. It probably wouldn't have been that important, but since Yuffie had tears in her eyes to begin with, they probably thought she was half off the brink of death or something. Wowzers did their noses look like those big red ones that the scary people with the painted faces wore…ooo look a piece of string…

"Yuffie, I need to talk to you," Squall said urgently, watching her dunk her hand into her cup of soda, spilling it all over the table and soaking her sweater. As she massaged her face with the ice, she noticed for the first time that he had some kind of margarita, and he had just taken her soda and poured it in a glass. So, he still thought she couldn't hold her alcohol. Virtue would've laughed at that, and if he could've talked, he would've told everyone about her morning serenades with her beer bottle.

"What what **what,**" she said in irritation, finding that repeating the word made her calm down a little. Just a little. "I'm going to the hospital after this, and I'm sending the bill to you." Assuming he still lived in the same place. That apartment that smelled of coffee beans and sweet cologne…

"You said…that I dated Rinoa," he began, tilting his head to watch her. She refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead with full determination, ice water dribbling down her chin. Squall had an insane, ludicrous idea of leaning over and licking it off, but he knew that he'd probably get a fist in his mouth if he did. So he kept himself stationary and waited for her to respond.

"I did. What's your point?" "Yuffie…" she flinched and the ice fell into her lap as he leaned over and stroked her hair. Her nose was beyond frozen by now, but the area on each side of it was heating up like a furnace. She always loved his hands. How they were always meticulous and sooo long. And when he touched her…damn it, why'd he have to touch her? As if it was some kind of ultimate weapon against her, and she couldn't pull away. She wanted to tell him to just STOP, but how could she when she was enjoying it so much.

Virtue watched the display of affection was interest. For the first time it came to his mind that Squall was _him. _The one she always talked about, the one she always screamed at and cried for during the night. Him him!

Pigeons flew outside, and he purred softly, the wish to fly like them fleeting and short. Who'd want to fly like that anyways? Moving your wings furiously all day long…it had to be a bloody drag. Especially with all that fat around their midsection…

And i'll cater

with all the birds that i can kill

let their tiny feathers fill

disappointment

"Remember when I said I needed time to think?"

Yuffie started forward, and Squall grabbed her, this time falling back onto the chair, with her on his lap. "I don't want to hear this," she moaned, kicking and thrashing in his arms. He held her tightly, with her back pressed tightly against his chest, and his breath hot on her ear, trying to reason with her.

"Listen Yuffie," he said, his grip like iron. It hurt, but probably because she was squirming like a wiggly worm. "After we got mugged a-"

"LALALALALAL-"

"Stop it!" he whispered, the hold around her waist and arms biting and painful. She wanted to cry again, tell him that she hated him all over again, but she didn't have the will anymore. She'd never felt so damn pathetic…except for that one night, with the gun pressed against her temple. With a whimper of defeat, she stopped moving, slumping in his arms. Almost instantly, the hold was released, and the feeling she now had was one of warmth, just like before, when he'd hold her beneath the stars.

"A notice was sent to me that my father had been shot and killed in an incident involving him trying to halt the trading of cocaine in an underground black market called _Score. _You were still in post-traumatic shock, and going to therapy. Plus, you were dealing with your parents, lawsuits, and the parents of the _muggers. _I went to the funeral without telling you beforehand, planning on informing you when you were in the right mind again. At the funeral though, my mother had a nervous breakdown, and committed suicide on my father's deathbed…Yuffie?"

She sat silently in his arms, and he had to turn her cheek and look into her eyes to ensure she hadn't fallen asleep. She looked like a kitten, her eyes large and vulnerable and…guilty? She quickly pulled her face out of his grasp, drooping her head so that her hair flowered over her face. She worried her lip as she quietly went over what he had just said.

"Why didn't you ever tell me? Why didn't anyone ever tell me? Squall, why did you just leave me?"

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter," he said pensively, shutting his eyes closed for a moment as he fought off some dormant memory. "My mother's side of the family was horrified and humiliated that their daughter would commit such an act. They paid out of the ass just to cover the whole story up."

Yuffie stiffened. She remembered _that _side of the Leonhart family. It wasn't hard to forget them once you've met them. They were filthy rich, living in a giant mansion somewhere in England. She had only met a few of them once when they'd flown over here, but from what she remembered, they were snotty, egocentric, prestigious, and major jackasses. No wonder that they'd want to cover up their daughter's suicide, who originally was supposed to take over their company, but instead ran off with that fool Laguna.

"Not only that, they blackmailed me and sworn me to some kind of secrecy," Squall continued, and now he had lifted his hands and was rubbing his temples in annoyance. She realized she could definitely sympathize. Blackmail was a bitch. "Tell no one, and they'll leave me alone."

What were they, the Mob?

"I'm sorry," she began, and the apology left her feeling hollow.

lie down

and lick the sorrow from your skin

"It doesn't hurt…as much," Squall admitted, resting his forehead against her neck. She twitched, but found herself unable to pull away. He was being brutally honest about his feelings now, something he rarely ever did. She stared fixedly at Virtue, who was staring right back at her. What did he know?

"It doesn't matter now," he whispered, so softly, like a dove cooing. She could feel him inhale, and his grip around her tightened. She was struck with the realization that she didn't **want **him to let go of her. Not then, not ever. "I've found you now."

"Don't say that," she reprimanded softly, even though she was already wishing he'd repeat it again. How long had she been waiting for those words? Too long, it seemed to her. Way too long. "You can't just walk out of my life and then come smashing back in pretending everything is ok. You can't just…" she trailed off, looking up into his eyes. It was becoming hard to control her mouth now.

"Can't just what?" he prodded, stroking her cheek, using his other hand to intertwine with hers.

She shook her head, glaring at the chef, who was still standing there, as adamant as ever. Didn't he have eyes? Couldn't he give some them some goddamn needed privacy?

"Don't make me say it," she said stiffly. She instead countered with a question of her own. "Why'd you leave me?" she repeated.

He sighed, leaning back into the sofa, bringing her along with him. Virtue came up and sat on her lap, nuzzling into both of their hands. "I didn't leave you. Rinoa was giving me psychotherapy. I don't know what she told you, but that's all it was."

'_No_' her mind began to say. _Then what was with the little dates? And all the OH SQUALL DUMPED ME? _She wanted to say that, but suddenly Virtue dug his nails into her, making her bite her own cheek for the second time that day.

scratch the terror and begin

to believe you're strong

'_Virtue_' she thought silently, glaring down at him. Some blood slid through one of the piercing, tickling her hand a little. She was in her little psychotherapy herself, with Yuffie and Dr. Kisaragi, sitting in the office she called her brain. She was **trying **to mull over everything, and here her sadistic feline was, tearing off her hand. Bloody lovely.

"She said you were dating," Yuffie stated bluntly through pouted lips. Her hand still hurt.

"She was always going on about it. And today she can crying over to my place about how you had dumped her."

_'__Goddamn Rinoa, what have you done to her…' _

"That's not true," he said firmly, holding her close. She was shaking badly. "That was **never **true." How was he supposed to convince her otherwise? He knew that it would've been very easy to say that, since he spent most of his days with her. Those days had been in an _office _though, with no inappropriate touching whatsoever. Why had Rinoa said such a thing? Let the poor girl on for so long…hurt **_his _**Yuffie. He knew that they didn't get along that much, but to go that far? He just didn't want to understand it.

"Yeah. Right." She said hoarsely, elbowing him roughly in the stomach. He coughed painfully, navy eyes widening momentarily. She wasn't that strong, but that hit held a lot of venom in it. Blindly he watched as she began to run out into the balcony, the black pet hot on her heels. Second later he was bolting up from the chair, making it screech backward and knocking Yuffie's drink off the table. The chef was roaring at him to pay for that, and he threw a 20 on the floor as he took out the door. **Damn it. **

Yuffie had ducked into a bookstore right after leaving, and was still curled up into a ball there by the time Squall was back at Union Square, searching around in a frenzied, confused, and thoroughly frustrated manner. After forty or so minutes of cowering there, she quietly got back up, lifting the pile of hand puppets from Virtue that she had used to hide him from store workers. They walked out together, sullen and silent.

Back at her apartment, Yuffie laid in her bed, buried deep down four layers of blankets. It wasn't enough for her though, it seemed. She couldn't still breathe, she could still feel the raw pain…no, not deep enough. Not deep enough at all.

Virtue sat with her, not under the mountain of sheets like she was, but on top of all of it, stretched out on her pillow. His eyes glowed iridescently in the dark. As if having the whole apartment shut tighter than a jar lid wasn't enough, she had thrown a thick brown winter blanket over her curtains, preventing any further rays of light from coming in. Now the room really did look like a cave, with the turned up heater and blankets making the whole house feel like a sauna. Virtue looked down at the miserable girl beneath the sheets, who was sobbing inconsolably.

All you ever wanna do is

drink and watch TV

and frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.

_Knock. Knock. _

Somebody was at the door! Virtue's hair rose in anticipation, but Yuffie didn't move. Move! He felt like yelling at her. She just continued to lie there, as if she hadn't heard that. Maybe she hadn't over her wails. Virtue figured it had to be one of those salesmen again…those nasty men who came to their door and always looked at Yuffie the wrong way. They went away eventually though. Even though some of the super creeps would actually wait around until she'd go outside and then try to sell her their pitch. It never worked though.

…and this guy was **_never _**going to go **away. **

What, could he bang on that door for a million years or what? Yuffie threw her covers off, eyes pink and puffy, but certainly angry and annoyed now. "Can't I be miserable in peace?" she demanded in a shameful hiss, climbing out of bed and slamming open her door. Virtue was sure he heard some of the wall chip off.

"Whaaaatt?" she screeched as she opened the door, not really giving a rat's ass about who it was. Girl scouts, neighbors, her own damn grandmother be damned! She just wanted to be left alone! Evenbefore she had opened it though, she had known who it was. Maybe it was her psychic intuition. Or maybe it was her blunt stupidity. At once though she knew that it was _him._

Squall wrapped his arms around her soft midsection, stumbling with her into the apartment. _I knew it._She bit her lip and shut the door with her foot, pushing him away from her with determination in her thin arms. She didn't even care how he got in here, or didn't even think that HEY! He actually kept the spare keyIgave him.She stormed away from him like an amazon woman, not even caring at he was most likely to follow. And he **was. **

Virtue felt the air rustle his fur as Yuffie zoomed past him, into her cavernous room. Squall brought on another gust, and he whined in irritation and stooped back from the door as it was nearly slammed by Yuffie and pushed back open by Squall. Geez Louise these humans were dumb.

And stubborn as hell.

"Get out of my apartment!" Yuffie screeched, throwing a pillow at Squall. He caught it easy and let it fall to the ground. Virtue watched nervously from the doorway, eyes alert for anything that might come barreling his way. Yuffie was running out of pillows now, and she was reaching for her bedside table. Uh oh. She kept some scissors in there.

I swear I'm gonna bite you hard

and taste your freakin'1 blood

Wasn't she tired of fighting? Virtue sure was. He was so damn sick of dealing with her roller coaster emotions, having her down in the dumps one day and then riding on a wave of lividness the next. He felt like just sinking his teeth into her, knock some sense into her. He wish he could tell her to **just give up. **Squall was telling the truth and they both knew it. He just wanted her back, and she was putting the blame on him. And if there was anyone to point fingers at, then it was the owner of that stagnant Angelo, who he was now convinced need some psychotherapy of her own.

"Yuffie," Squall said in a commanding voice, his navy blue eyes flashing gunmetal gray as he had his ear narrowly chafed by a candlestick. "I know you think you're on the brute end of our cruel astuteness…but I didn't know this would happen. And if you would just listen to me I can explain. I'm sorry that you feel this way and I know I should've just told you, regardless of everything the Leonharts told me they would do…"

Yuffie began to wail on the ground, covering her ears.

if you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating since the day you brought me home

Squall sat down next to her, leaning against the bed frame as she did. He slowly placed her arm on her bony shoulders, stroking them consolingly. As he listened closely, he realized that she was murmuring 'you're right, I'm sorry' over and over again, like a broken record player. He pressed his lips to the soft strings of her hair, rubbing his nose into the dark mop of brown.

"I love you," he whispered, a subtle, gentle voice in her ear that send tingling feelings all over her body. She smiled and leaned into him, her voice stilling as she let out a loud, deep sigh that pulled from deep in her chest. Suddenly she felt irrevocably calm. Let's just stay here. For a long time, just waiting for nothing in particular. Just stay here with me.

I know you're strong.

"Come here Virtue," she called quietly, and the said animal came slinking over, curling in between her legs. He looked up at her with curious verdant eyes. She patted him gently on the head, stroking down his thin body. "Thank you for leading me to him," she said, as the cat began to purr. "Thank you for being there for me, when I wasn't even there for myself."

Squall smiled as he placed a kiss on Yuffie's forehead. They'd sort this whole thing out. He'd found her…and he wasn't going to let her go this time.

Virtue watched them curiously, then let out a loud yawn.

_**Humans**_.

* * *

A/N: This one-shot hereby proved that I am the biggest procrastinator on the face of this damn universe. This was supposed to be DEPLORA'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT. In **November. **Yeah, I'm pretty bad. I'm sorry Deplora! This is like a…belated birthday/Christmas/early Valentine's Day present now. I just don't know what to say…I'm really sorry. This thing took a lot more toiling then I had wanted it to. Plus, it's a lot longer then I intended it.

I don't know if any of you noticed this, but I was testing with a new sort of writing style. No one probably noticed, but I made some subtle changes in how I did things. I've been reading a lot of Stephen King novels lately and I think it was influencing me a bit.

1-this stands for the one word in the song that I changed, if anyone cares to know. It was originally "titty" but I changed it because using the original word was just…bleh.

P.S. I hope I didn't sound like I hated Rinoa. I do, in fact, have a little thing against her, but I tried to make it so I sounded neutral oh the whole thing. If it sounded a little bitter, it was from Yuffie's own feelings and her POV, not because of my own views. Just pointing that out. (I also played FF8, so I **know **Rinoa is a little out of character. I hoped you bore with me on that too!)

Review please! It's good for the writer's soul!


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